YOUSSEF NEED TREATMENT

Appreciate the chocolate 🍫

Fanfic: * Y/N is called “pet”, “slave”, “creature”, “monkey”, etc. as terms of endearment*

Me; a negro:

On the topic of Disney boycotts, Marvel's Captain America 4, titled Captain America: Brave New World (previously titled Captain America: New world order.)

Will be the MCU debut of the superhero, Sabra.

An Israeli superhero, sponsored by the Israeli government.

Sabra aka Ruth Bat-Seraph made her comics debut in 1981 working for what's basically the Israeli secret service.

The comic cover she first appeared in, The Incredible Hulk #256, depicts her blasting the Hulk as a dead Palestinian boy lays in the rubble.

With the caption: Power and Peril in the Promised Land!

The Palestinian boy, called Sahad who was depicted as an illiterate theif was stealing a watermelon from a fruit cart in Tel Aviv.

That Sabra sees as inhuman until the Hulk convinced her otherwise. "It had taken the Hulk to make her see this dead Arab boy as a human being."

Disgusting.

Doesn't even refer to him as Palestinian.

Sabra also shares the same name as the Sabra and Shalita Massacre in Lebanon.

A massacre that many agree Israel holds responsibility for allowing.

And yes, Sabra was created before this atrocity but that doesn't mean they aren't associated with each other years later. Especially with Israel's involvement.

See Israel who are also currently bombing Lebanon.

Marvel has stated they will go with a new appprach for Sabra.

But Marvel is owned by Disney. The same company who donated Israel 2 million dollars...yeah I'm sure you're gonna make her less like an Israeli propaganda machine.

An IDF soilder is not a hero, start there.

Mitski - My love mine all mine

Comfort fic with Mihawk?

Pretty plz oh my sister of mine

(Add smut if you must-but you’re really pulling my arm)

Comfort fic, you say? You get some angst too, sis.

Masterlist here.

Word Count: 1,178

Warnings: angst, longing, fluff, sleeping, embracing (no smut)

Song Suggestion: Mitsuki - My Love Mine all Mine.

Nothing in the world belongs to me // But my love mine, all mine // Nothing in the world is mine for free // But my love mine, all mine, all mine

The halls in the great castle had naught a sound resounding in the chasms. The polished cobblestone lay bare and cold, the warm light of the crystalline chandelier reflecting its small flames atop the surfaces. The darkness from nightfall glistened starlight through the stained glass windows; the moon cascading it’s crescent shape on one of the many portraits that hung high and out of sight within the room.

He had been gone for two weeks, his presence not gracing the ornate floorboards with his silhouette for nine days longer than he promised. He thought the contract would be over swiftly, the great blade Yoru able to cut through anything with one fell, booming swipe. His cloak was dishevelled, his cross was laying slightly askew atop his bare chest. The large, fluffed, white feather in his broad hat was slightly singed around the edges, tanning under the scorch marks to tint it a smoked yellow. It did not go at all according to his plan: get in, get it done, get it over with, and get back to you.

The individual he was stalking had managed to raise an army, something the world government did not anticipate him having such sway nor ability to execute. He was to be brought in alive for questioning, his bounty nullified should he perish below a blade. Dracule Mihawk was tasked with not only capturing this person alive, but also ridding the amassment of pirates that had so readily come to his defence. It took him nine days of combat; never resting, always pushing to get to his target. He was exhausted, his energy resources depleted completely.

As he stalked slowly along the grounds, his staff would turn and halt their movements and chores; offering a swift stoop at acknowledgement of his presence. Mihawk’s shoulders were slumped, hunching down from his great posture as he reached your shared bedroom. Turning the circular handle, he lifted the small latch from its brace against the door and slowly allowed the hall light to break through the darkness.

Atop his large four-poster bed lay his love, his hidden treasure known only to his staff and a handful of others he trusted enough with his secret. His eyes softened, leaning his towering form against the post of the doorframe slightly to take you in. Allowing a soft smile to rise to the corner of his lips, he raked his amber-eyes over you to take in your sleeping form.

You lay in a white silken bed-robe, the fabric of the many layers pooling at your wrists in their lengthy decline. Laying on your side, facing the door, your hair lay gracefully cascading atop his pillowcase. Your right leg bent at the knee, the duvet laying beneath it as to mimic your embrace with your lover; as you would most commonly be cradled against the chest of the warlord as you both slept soundly. Your hand was clutching a single red rose, laying wilting and dried over the mattress alongside his promise to return to you before the cut, thorny rose should ever require water. A single petal fell to the floor as you took a deep breath to indicate your slumber had become interrupted.

Mihawk quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind him, the softest click of the latch could be heard as he attempted to silence his decent. He took his hat off, placing it on the desk beside his armchair, alongside removing Yoru and laying the great blade on it’s wooden, decorative resting hilt. He sighed in relief as the weight had been removed from his shoulders, rotating them to remind his muscles how to behave without harnessing such a weapon. Slowly, he drew his arms out of his cloak, wincing as his biceps contracted beneath the material.

He had overexerted himself, went too hard for too long; something you would chastise him for, he’s sure of it. Placing the cloak on the back of his armchair, he removed his boots and socks from his feet and slotted them beneath the bed. His fingers halted their retract as you let a slow, sleepy moan fall from your lips. Your brows began to furrow as your lucidity continued to propel you within haunted dreams of your love’s demise. Mihawk hastily unclasped the buckle on his belt, pulling in one swift movement to rid it from its place within his pants and tucked the object in one of his boots.

Kneeling his right knee on the bed, he began a stumbled and exhausted crawl to fall his body next to your own. He laced his left arm beneath your right and flattened his forehead against your chest, listening to the slow, rhythmic thump of your heartbeat. The remainder of petals fell to rest atop his curled, darkened locks as he closed his honey-coloured eyes tightly shut. He lifted his right arm to rest over your manubrium, focussing more on his concentration listening to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the rise and fall of your breathing.

In your subconsciousness, you drew down your right hand and laced it within Mihawk’s hair; body completing this soft and gentle embrace from muscle memory alone. The furrow in your brows completely fell from your face and softened in your slumber once more. Mihawk smiled into your embrace, relishing being in the arms of his hidden love once again – albeit nine days late.

He hoped you did not hold such tardiness against him, tracing low circles atop the small of your back before drawing his hand down to clutch the back of your right thigh to hook your knee over the bottom of his ribcage. Sighing into the embrace, he felt your body completely relax into him with a sigh of his own to follow in reaction. The two of you feeling the weight of the absence fleeing from your bodies in this gentle embrace, falling from you in waves of bittersweet reunification.

The gentle light of the crescent moon continued to follow into the room, its light illuminating your embrace through the small partition within the heavy charcoal curtains. Mihawk reopened his yellow eyes, tilting his head up and removing his hand from your chest in favour of brushing a single strand away from your face. Your lips were parted, eyelashes forming a small shadow atop the apples of your cheeks under the light of the moon. Mihawk felt his heart swell knowing you were safe in his castle, slumbering soundly while remaining hidden away from the world government.

Finally having something that was truly his own, not an ability to be used for exploit, nor his vast array of wealth in riches and land. You were his, something that was only for him.

“Sleep now, my love,” he sighed, pressing a lingering kiss against your throat with his eyelashes flickering against the bare skin as he leant in to your embrace. He withdrew his soft touch and whispered against your flesh: “May you forgive me when you wake. I love you, may you continue to be mine. Only mine.”

does throwing a stone at a tank

make a child a terrorist?

is terrorism about resisting oppression? is terrorism about demanding your birthright to live safely and peacefully in your homeland? is terrorism about hating the killers of your family, your friends and your people?

accusations of terrorism are often weaponized against those fighting for liberation and sovereignty and dignity. the french settlers called the algerians terrorists. the indian government calls the kashmiris terrorists. the pakistani army calls pashtun activists terrorists. the turkish government calls the kurds terrorists. apartheid south africa called nelson mandela a terrorist. americans called the vietcong and the black panthers terrorists. the israelis call the palestinians terrorists. all oppressive regimes are connected. all oppressed people are connected. injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.

The fact that Pieper Lewis is being forced to pay her sex trafficker's family $150,000 for killing him in self-defense is horrendous and evil. I am filled with so much anger and sorrow for her. I hate the justice system that allowed this to happen. She deserves reparations for the harm that was caused to her. A man tortured a girl and she has to pay his family for trying to survive. She was 15 when she killed him in self-defense. They charged a Black girl as an adult when she was a kid. The system has and continues to prosecute Black people as adults when they are children. She is 18 now. She's having to relive her trauma for three years now. He raped and trafficked her to other men. Pieper agreed to have her name used previously in stories about her case. She's taking all of this heat publicly and of course, the prosecution blamed her for "leaving his kids without a father." They judged her clothing choices. I hope everyone who charged her for trying to survive gets hell. Her life was damaged when this man went and harmed her. The system did not protect her from what she faced and when they found out what was done to her, they continued to put her through pain and trauma. They are now sentencing her to five years on probation in a women's facility. She was a girl. She is barely an adult now. The community owes her a service. That man owes her reparations. The justice system owes her for allowing her to be harmed and oppressed by the system. Not the other way around. She is in jail being punished when she did not commit a crime. They put a girl in a cage.

I'm re-linking the GoFundMe here. It's currently disabled at 15.8K donations but this may change. She was arrested after cutting off a GPS trafficking device that she was forced to wear and leaving the facility.